


Sherlock December Ficlets 2017: Mistletoe

by PoppyAlexander



Series: Dawn Before the Rest of the World [10]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Butler Sherlock Holmes, Christmas Fluff, Deleted Scenes, Flirting, Gardener John, Jealousy, M/M, Mistletoe, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Sherlock Ficlets 2017, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 08:28:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13186257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoppyAlexander/pseuds/PoppyAlexander
Summary: John spies Molly beneath the mistletoe; Sherlock is just jealous enough to fall on that particular sword.(set a few months before the events of "Wind and Winter")





	Sherlock December Ficlets 2017: Mistletoe

Sherlock leaned slightly to his right, and under his breath said, “Miss Hooper is lingering there under that blasted mistletoe sprig again, Watson. Go and put the poor girl out of her misery.”

“I don’t think it’s me she wants a kiss from, Mr Holmes,” John replied, with a sly grin, his eyes alight with mischief. Sherlock’s neck flushed above the starched white shirt collar.

“Well, certainly, _I_  am not going to kiss her!” Sherlock whispered furiously, making a needless fuss in front of his mouth with his handkerchief to disguise their muttered discussion.

“Be a sport,” John urged, teasing. “In the spirit of the season.”

“Haven’t all the berries been plucked by now? There’s been endless kisses exchanged in that spot for days on end! Maids and footmen and the laundress and even the hall boy. I had to shoo a stable boy from the kitchen only yesterday afternoon,” Sherlock fumed. “Oh, and now she’s singing, to draw more attention to herself.”

“She’s only there dusting,” John defended.

“Yes, I can see my reflection in the polish on that balustrade,” Sherlock frowned.

“Well, then go and claim your kiss and she’ll be on her way.” John tipped his chin.

“Honestly, Watson. You do it.”

“I’ve had my fill for today. Not to say she’s not a lovely girl, of course.” John shrugged a bit and cast a long glance over Sherlock’s shoulder. “Quite pretty indeed,” he agreed with himself. “In fact, Mr Holmes, now you mention it, perhaps I will catch a kiss while I can. Do you think Miss Hooper would let me hold her little hand a bit, as well? Her singing voice is very fine. . .”

Sherlock set his lips in a tight line. “I’m quite sure all the berries were plucked already.”

“Some scoundrel with an aim to kiss a few pretty girls must have found some more—maybe in the orchard, clinging to an apple tree—and brought in a fresh branch just lousy with kisses. Ha! Of course I meant to say,  _with berries_.”

Sherlock had made a half-step to put himself in the way of John’s view of Molly as she sang and polished and lingered beneath the red-ribbon-tied mistletoe sprig dangling from the lowermost point on the lamp hung at the base of the stairs from the kitchen. John ducked around him in the other direction.

“She shouldn’t be denied. Have a look at her profile, Mr Holmes, and you’ll have to agree she’s a fetching thing to behold. Bit of pink in her cheeks. That’s it, I’m decided. You’ll pardon me.” John made a lurch forward and Sherlock wheeled on his heel, striding toward Molly. He cleared his throat and clutched his wrist in the circle of his other hand, behind his back.

“ _Heh-hem_. Miss Hooper, I’m afraid you’ve caught yourself in a compromising position.  . .”

“Have I?” Molly asked, all feigned innocence with her hand to her breast. She looked up. “Oh, dear! I do keep forgetting about that silly thing!” she wittered, and tucked her dust rag in the pocket of her apron, then smoothed the wisps of hair that had come loose from beneath her cap, around her cheeks.

“I shall write this in my diary as my day of good fortune,” Sherlock intoned, and John bit down on a widening smile. “That I should get a chance to catch a kiss from the lovely Miss Molly Hooper.” He stepped closer to her and offered his hand, palm up, for her to steady herself. “May I?”

“I can’t refuse or it’s bad luck for me all the days of the new year!” Molly exclaimed. She looked around as if to assure no one was watching, then lay her hand in Sherlock’s, and primly turned her face to offer her cheek. Sherlock stooped to kiss it, quick and kind, then regained his height.

“Thank you, Miss Hooper,” he said with a nod, and John could see Molly was six shades of pink from her neck to her hairline, with a closed-lip smile she couldn’t easily hide. “Now, if you’ll please collect the maids, Mr Watson has brought in pine boughs that want tying up, to decorate the mantels.”

Molly returned his nod, lingering and obedient. “Yes, Mr Holmes.”

John approached him once she’d gone, and said quietly over Sherlock’s shoulder. “I’m not sure which of you to envy more.”

“If you happen to come across another branch or two, Watson, would you kindly bring it to my room? I know a spot where it could hang.”

John grinned at him. “Yes, Mr Holmes.”


End file.
